After being expelled from Ilvermorny for a particularly daring prank, Thalia Scamander finds herself having to readjust to life at Hogwarts. Lucky for her, she hits it off with a group called the Marauders...evidently she hit it off with some more t...
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Upon pushing open the door, Thalia was met with the sight of a woman, once recognisable as her mother - now, not so much. Her previously shiny auburn hair was matted and dull, much grey streaking through it. Her soft slate eyes were now cold and dead looking, and her skin was brittle and papery, the colour of wet sand. Her previously heart shaped face was sunken and hollow, and a rasping cough escaped her cracked lips.
"Maman?" The small girl asked, and tears welled in her eyes. She rushed towards the sorry figure in the bed, who held up a shaking hand. Her wrist was so thin, it looked like it would snap from the effort of supporting her hand.
"Don't." She managed to gasp out, before her eyes fluttered closed from the effort. Thalia began to sway on her feet. She was overwhelmingly dizzy, her vision dancing and jumping around. James placed his hand on her shoulder, steadying her from behind.
"Thals, it's okay, we're all here." He spoke softly, reassuring her. She nodded, her resolve hardening, and made her way over to her Mother.
"Maman, it's me. I would ask how you are but..." The woman in the bed gave a weak smile, and inhaled sharply.
"Yes, I bet I am looking magnifique aren't I?" James thought he detected a trace of a French accent, which made sense as to why her daughter was addressing her in French. Thalia managed to lift the corners of her rosy lips, glad that her mum had retained her sense of humour that she hadn't seen a glimpse of since before Thomas died.
"Never better." Thalia replied. "Can I get you anything?" The wasted figure laughed as best she could.
"Finally! I zought you would never ask! Whisky á la rocks, merci Ma chérie. Remind your father never to become an 'ousemaid, 'e is terrible!" The small girl sent her dad a look, raising her eyebrows, to which he responded by raising his hands defensively.
"I'm a man! I'm not hardwired to serve!" He whined before laughing and dashing off to make the desired beverage. Thalia's mother turned slightly to face James, who was still loitering in the doorway, his hands in his pockets.
"Well aren't you a dashing young man! Thalia 'oo is this you 'ave brought back?" The dark haired boy took a few steps forward and stretched out his hand which she took to shake, very gently.
"I'm James, James Potter. It's nice to meet you Mrs Scamander, I'm terribly sorry it has to be under these circumstances." And Mrs Scamander feebly nudged Thalia.
"If this is what the boys at 'Ogwarts are like, I am glad we sent you zere!" To which the girl rolled her eyes, and smiled slightly. "And it is Camille, I will not 'ave all of this 'Mrs Scamander' nonsense!" The boy nodded in response. Before long, Ben had returned with a glass of water (he knew his wife too well) and the family launched into a conversation in rapid French. James watched as he saw Thalia expressing herself in a way she never did in English, her eyes bright at being in touch with her heritage.
"Qu'est-ce que penses tu, James?" The small girl finally addressed him, a small smile still lingering on her lips, her mood lifted having spent time with her parents now they were no longer furious with her.
"Uhhhh, what?"
"I said; Qu'est-ce que penses tu? - What do you think?"
"Oh. I don't speak french."
"But you're a pureblood! Eloise and Sirius speak it. If your sister is fluent, how are you not?" The girl stared at him curiously.
"Well - uh - the Potters aren't a part of the Sacred Twenty Eight, like the Blacks, and the Malfoys, so I never learned..."
"Who the hell do we know that's a Malfoy? No Malfoys even attend Hogwarts right?" James shuffled his feet nervously. It really wasn't his story to tell. He was slightly confused that Eloise hadn't told Thalia yet, but it was probably for a good reason.
"I don't think I can really tell you, Eloise needs to, it's not for me to say. I can't betray her trust like that." Thalia nodded in response, understanding that James would tell her if he was able, she laid a hand on his arm and smiled once more.
"Well we'll have to teach you French then won't we!" She changed the subject once more. And so it was arranged that Thalia and her Mother would teach James French every day, until he could at least speak the basics.
After several hours of James getting his verb endings wrong, much to the Scamander family's frustration, and many cries of;
"But French is a beauuuuutiful language, it must be spoken correctly!" From Camille, James looked out of the window, and noticed the sun had long ago set. Deciding to try and impress Thalia's Mother, he cleared his throat;
"Je pense qu'il est l'heure de dormir! Oui?" Thalia giggled and cheered for him, whilst her Mother and Father both smiled kindly.
"James?" Camille asked for his attention. "Your attempts are valliant, 'owever, your accent is - how do you say? - shit!" James roared with laughter at the woman's bluntness, wholeheartedly agreeing with her. "Now Thalia, go and show your guest to 'is room, merci!" The girl nodded, and playfully stuck out her tongue once more, this time at her Mother.
"Natalia Charlotte Scamander! 'Ow could you be so rude to your own Muzzer!" However she was grinning as she sent the pair off with a; "Bon nuit, mes chéris!"
Thalia lead James down the long corridor of the second floor, and up another flight of stairs.
"Hey, why did your Mum call you Natalia?" James asked, messing up his hair further.
"Because, strangely enough, that's my name..." She sassed, placing a hand on her hip, and turning to look at him. "And I hate being called it, so don't ever tell anyone, because I will end your life." She gestured to a door on her left as if nothing had happened. "This is a bathroom, if you need it." They continued down the hallway, almost identical to the one below, however this one had more accidents on the wallpaper. Red and blue crayon lines were drawn on the walls. A few childishly drawn self portraits were drawn here and there. A height chart was drawn on one very unused piece of wall, one colour labelled 'Thalia', and the other labelled 'Thomas'. She broke the comfortable silence once more. "This was mine and Thomas' floor if you didn't already guess. I'll give you a proper house tour tomorrow if you want." James nodded, glad their weeks of awkwardness had abruptly come to an end.
"Sure, that sounds good." Eventually, the two came to three doors at the end of the corridor. One was directly ahead, and the other two were in opposite each other, along the same lines that all the other doors in the hallway were. She gestured to the one directly ahead,
"This is my room." She then pointed to the one to the right, "That was Thomas' room." and the one on the left. " This is your room, if that's okay. We have loads of different ones if you would prefer though, I just thought that -"
"Thals, it's perfect, thanks." It was too dark to see the room, James could just make out the bed, which he immediately threw himself onto, with a contented sigh. "Night, Thals. If you need me, don't hesitate."
